Nothing more to proffer,
Just regrets to offer.
We’re not opposites locking,
Nor feathered birds flocking.
No quarter was given, and now we’re spent.
Lost it all down to the last red cent.
Squeezed out our lemon drop tears.
Used up our best years.
Dry eyes, and here we stand,
As you reach out to shake my hand.
There are no stones here unturned,
Where a hidden ember could still burn,
To reignite this flame.
(things just aren’t the same).
Our vibrant love, once celebrated,
Blanched by time and now so faded.
Though some part longs to hold you again,
I just reach out and shake your hand.